The Last Disciple
by chayashix
Summary: Sometimes, theory can turn out a little differently in practice. Based on the 'oriental assault techniques' mentioned in the 3DMG specialist profile for Levi from "Wings of Counterattack". Teacher/Student Levi & Mikasa. A bit of angst with slight humor (?).


_Based on the 3DMG specialist character profile for Levi from **Wings of Counterattack**._

* * *

The shock that flashed across Mikasa's face was equally visible in the slight dilation of his irises when she intercepted his attack; tightening her vise on his wrists, she gaped at the two fingers jammed stiffly into the top of her left breast.

"_Captain_," she spluttered, shifting the offending fingers an inch toward the relative safety of her shoulder. "Just what, _exactly_, were you trying to do?"

His attempt to ram his fingers once more into the soft flesh over her chest was met with a fierce resistance and an even fiercer glare. "What the _he-_"

"You can still move," he observed, the corners of his mouth angling downwards to match the deepening twist of his locked arms.

"_Hah?_ Of course I can still move."

"Right side, two inches in and above the kidney," he muttered, more to himself than to her. "Left side, same. Then left again, above the heart. I'm sure I got it right…"

It took Mikasa another fifteen seconds of agitated huffing before the forgotten sequence suddenly fell into a recognizable pattern. "Pressure point paralysis."

The syllables dropped from her lips in an almost reverent whisper, catching his attention. "You know it?"

She nodded once, cautiously releasing him from her vicious grip. "But… how? Who taught it to you?"

"Nobody." He frowned again, rubbing the fresh white and red stripes running across his skin. As the demanding silence between them stretched ever thinner, though, he sighed. "I read it in a book."

"A… _book_?" she repeated incredulously. "There are _books_ about this?"

"Hmph, of course. Just not any that people are supposed to know about." _And only monsters know where to find them_, he mused, recalling the tattered volume that Erwin had smuggled out of the capital a couple of weeks back. The cryptic script was clearly of Eastern origin, and beyond any of their capabilities to decipher. However, the diagrams were clear enough for Erwin to determine that such a set of skills would be an invaluable asset in covert operations against their increasingly _human _adversaries.

Admittedly, Levi had never made any connection between the disheveled scrawls of the manual and the poorly controlled chaos standing before him. But the slight turn at the corner of her eyes, and the unusual tint of the skin beneath her scarred cheek, seemed to be the only logical explanations for her apparent familiarity with the technique.

Mikasa folded her arms under her ribs, cupping her elbows in her hands. "What… does the book say?" she asked quietly.

"Hell if I know, I can't read any of that shit. The few pictures are ugly as fuck too."

She scowled at the ground. "You managed to learn the positions of the points from them just fine."

"I said they were _ugly_, not _incomprehensible_," he grumbled impatiently. "If the points are correct, why can you still move?"

"Who else has seen this book?" she pressed, skirting his query.

"Erwin, and Hange. But shitty glasses won't look twice at anything other than titan crap. Why can you still move?"

"So where is it now?"

"In my study. _Why can you still move?_"

"Why don't _you_ tell me," she snapped. "Have you ever used those moves, before?"

"The points are correct, aren't they. In theory."

_In theory_. The sweat crawled down the back of her neck as she stood in the hot sun; day after day, week after week, thrusting her tiny fingers into the unyielding canvas of a grimy sandbag until the blood bloomed beneath her nails; she closed her eyes and heard the voice of a woman, gently but firmly pushing her to endure the pain, until she knew the exact strength and precision to use in order to preserve herself, her clan's honor, her heritage. _In theory, he says._

She had been far too young then to understand what 'preservation' truly meant, in a world devoid of theory.

The tattered ends of her scarf rippled out behind her, a menacing blur as she lunged toward him without warning. Levi reacted quickly, blocking the first attack to his face with crossed arms; pulling back his right fist, he prepared to swing out in return, but before he could do so, she ducked and barreled into his gut with her shoulder, shoving him off balance with the force of her momentum. As he stumbled back, her right arm flew out, two fingers locked in a rigid line. He barely registered the twin blows to his right and left sides before the deadly digits stabbed _hard_ into the upper quadrant of his chest; he could have sworn she burst one of his blood vessels in the process as his vision darkened momentarily. His mind shouted for his arms to stretch backwards and cushion his impending fall, but to his surprise they failed to respond as his spine impacted the ground with an undignified thump, sending scorched clouds of dust into the still air.

Utterly winded, he stared into the mercilessly blue skies above while a distinct, cramping sensation made its presence felt along every fiber of muscle from his neck downwards. His limbs had been firmly cemented in whatever instance they had found themselves in during that final blow; to his chagrin, the position he was now forced to assume was not only incredibly uncomfortable, but also somewhat ridiculous – rather like a stunned, overturned turtle.

His eyes narrowed as her shadow bent over his prone body, but instead of triumph, he found only naked shards of grief, obscured by the black strands of hair falling about her face.

Levi swallowed thickly. "That… actually hurts."

"Yes, it does," she replied. And then, as an after thought: "…if you execute it properly."

"Would you… teach it to me? If I show you the book."

He could see it pulling at the edges of her bitterness; the fingers of her hand stirred at her side, stretching forward almost imperceptibly to touch the ghosts of her stolen past.

The hand continued its upward journey, finally coming to rest on her hip. "I guess… our training is over for the day, huh," she said.

He grimaced as she straightened, letting the full force of the noon heat hit him in the face. "Ackerman," he growled. "Release me. _Now_."

"That won't be necessary. The effect will eventually wear off. In a few hours."

Horrified, Levi could only turn his head helplessly in the direction of her retreating footsteps.

"Oi, Ackerman! Mikasa!"

He had to wince against the glare of the sun, but there was no mistaking the grin that snaked across her face as she turned to look over her shoulder.

"That's _Master Mikasa_ to you, my ignorant disciple."


End file.
